Affinity to Firestorms
by bakagamis
Summary: When they clash, it's like sparks igniting wildfire, burning brighter with every breath, every touch.


Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious; I own nothing but my ideas.

Unrelated drabbles, possible alternate universes. Rating fluctuates; unbeta-ed, forgive me.

* * *

It's not until Aomine is slick and hovering over him, licking and biting the shell of his ear that he notices. Aomine's hands fold Kagami's thighs back and they burn, they _burn_ and it's all so good because he's being pressed into the sheets and-

"_Christ_, do that again," Kagami chokes out, in between rasping breaths. He clutches the sheets until his knuckles are sore and switches to scrabbling Aomine's back, highlighting red onto dark, delicious skin. Muscles flex under his palms, moving, working, burying deeper into Kagami and _it's about the third time we're doing this_, he recalls blearily, under the guise of getting together to play some 1-on-1 after the Winter Cup.

It's also about the time he realizes this isn't just something fleeting or physical—a needy pair of teenage boys fucking around.

But Aomine feels so _good_ and Kagami just bites down on his shoulder when he comes; if it's harder then usual, none of them say anything about it later.

Above him, Aomine shudders and swears, and as Kagami blinks away the white hot heat, he watches as the other rides out inside of him, mouthing a spot above his collarbone. In the morning, it'll be a pain to figure out how to cover it up, but as always, Aomine is an utter asshole about it, offering to make it a matching set on the other side. At least he leaves with an aching head, courtesy of a basketball and an perfectly-timed fumble on Kagami's side.

After he shuts the door, he sinks down and crouches, head between his hands and knees and a barrage of thoughts run through his mind, something along the lines of _what am I doing_, _what should I do_, and _shit, I can't believe I would _like_ such an asshole_.

"What a fuckin' joke," Aomine's voice floats through his head, cold and unwelcoming and it takes everything in Kagami to believe it won't be real if he finds out. So he swallows (but nothing goes down) and proceeds to ready himself for the day.

Kuroko's gaze lingers on his neck in the classrooms, curious but unwilling to say anything. Everyone else, however, pounce before practice as he's shrugging off his shirt to change, demanding answers.

"Kagami! You didn't tell us you had a girlfriend," Koganei whines, draping himself over the bench forlornly as Mitobe looks on, sympathetic. Izuki prattles on about girlfriends and friends and girls in the background; Hyuuga seriously claps him on the back, "Go die, Kagami." Kagami sighs insufferably and continues to slip on his pinnie over his practice clothes as Kuroko hands a refilled bottle to him, silent.

Somehow, the news spreads and his phone gets blown up, screen flashing every few minutes with frantic keyboard smashes from Kise, _the damn bastard_, and reluctant congratulations from Midorima. He scans through them, sends his mom an _I miss you _text (because right now, he really, really does) and turns off his phone in time to cut off an incoming message from Momoi.

At practice, he runs harder, jumps higher, and stops thinking as his hands grip the hoop. His thoughts are overrun by the squeak of sneakers echoing through the gym and the plays the coach makes, drilling them into the ground, one suicide after another.

Eventually, the team stops questioning him, caught by the small flashes of heartache trapped under the mock irritation in his eyes every once in a while. They wisely don't mention the extra hour of a lone pair of legs pounding into the gym floor even after the last of the showers have shut off.

When Aomine comes along, slinging his arm around his shoulders, easy and bright, Kagami can do little but hope and hang on. It gives him a small solace when he's the one under Aomine, taking up all his attention; he's the one making him react like this.

Sometimes, Kagami's above and he's the one gripping bruises into strong thighs, encircled by tight heat. He soaks in every moment, drinks in all of Aomine's shuttered sighs and swallows his moans like it's his last breath of air. And every time after, Aomine rolls over, splays himself on Kagami and pulls him in until the morning call. Unfortunately, it always comes all too soon.


End file.
